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calling homeSometimes when it's really dark and I'm lying in my bed alone — even when it's not just me — I see these little lights. I don't know if it's dreaming or not, but it's the prettiest thing you could ever see that's not the face of someone you love; all colors sometimes they are, winking on and off, and they just make me feel so much better.
I see them when I cry from time to time. I still cry. He says I can do it all I want, he teases me and it makes me think maybe I shouldn't, I should be grown up even though nobody ever treated me grown up and it's awfully hard to be something nobody ever said you could be, but he says he likes it, that it shows I'm sweet. I wish I didn't want to do it so often. But it hurts. Everything hurts even when it's wonderful, maybe especially then. And isn't it lovely then? I don't feel alone when they're around me, all those lights.
Your Insignificant GoddessHe curled himself loosely, soft legs and loose arms, against the wall like a prawn on a plate. He kept his lashes low, his face turned away from me, only moving to write and place the slate in front of my knees.
I'VE DONE MY TIME.
"I know, sweetie." I crouched beside him, reaching out to take his shoulder and then thinking better of it. I kept forgetting that he was younger than me, younger by several years. Sometimes, though, it was all too apparent. He was cold and firm, but there was so much simplicity in the smoothness of his face and limbs, this body like mine that time hadn't carved idiosyncracies into yet, his face like a brush painting the way I'd imagined it: uncomplicated, clean, fresh. "And you've done it better than I could ever have done."
I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK. I'M TIRED OF BEING HIS DOG.
"You won't be forever," I whispered. The threat of tears squeezed the backs of my eyeballs. This blessing, this cursed blessing. He was so real, so good, and now it too was real, what
Sweetest Silent SongHe sits in the window that shows the view most like Heaven with an empty book in his lap, stroking it like an inconsolable child. Silent.
I have never had the words to comfort or express. My language has always been that of clashing spears and cold hard coordinates; I can mimic the masters of pathos when it serves me well, but when it comes to speaking my own true emotions I am as dumb as the butt of a spear. Any elegance I may have, I learned from him.
Once I had the honor of belonging to the sweetest song in Hell.
And now that voice is silenced, perhaps forever. The gash across his throat boasts itself like a second mouth mocking the uselessness of the first. The memory of seeing him take it will forever drown out the rest of the battle; the blood of the one who inflicted it has long been washed from my hands into oblivion, but the consequences remain.
His pen is just as silent now. He no longer writes, for with no ability to reproduce the music or narrate he composes all j
At Night, The River"Enjoying the night, Mordecai?"
The child looked up and smiled as Silvia settled next to her, interrupting the song he had been murmuring while sitting on the bench overlooking the river, kicking his booted feet. His teeth were very white and sharp, his eyes were a deep purple, and his hair was fair. He could have been anywhere from twelve to fifteen, and neither.
He was one of the few creatures Silvia Marsh feared.
"Where's your Ezra?"
"Duke Riesgraf-Carleton is at home taking his rest, as if you didn't know," said Silvia, more stiffly than she had intended. "I'm alone tonight."
Mordecai snuggled into her leather-clad shoulder, wrapping a little white hand around her bicep. Despite the thick coat between them, Silvia shivered at the chill of his skin. "I could warm you up."
"I don't think so. I'm here for information, not your sick idea of playtime."
He pouted, all sugar. "You hate me, don't you? Silvia, you know I think you're pretty. You remind me of a girl I killed in Prague. Just
Grimm Beginnings: PREVIEW
Kitty opens the meeting with cookies.
As we chomp away, she outlines the plan for today. Apparently there's an amusement park in the area that's had more than its share of bizarre and dangerous accidents recently, and we're going to investigate, hopefully solving the problem. Fairly straightforward to most of us, but old 5 looks about ready to puke. I resolve to take him aside and share a few pointers, even though I'm not the best pep-talker. Better me than Stun, though on my first mission I naturally went to my best friend for advice, and guess what he told me? "Don't die." With advice like that, who needs chronic depression?
Anyway, the idea is that Frostie will take him under her wing (I couldn't have picked better; Frostie has the chops to keep him safe and calm), Kitty and Stun will draw the People or whatever the place has into the open. I'll join Kitty in diplomatic dealing, and if that doesn't work, the rest of the team will be
Fallen IrrecoverableI dislike attending balls. The pretended languor of the men who seem to have spent the last half of an hour in front of their mirrors practicing their jaded expressions repels me, and I cannot love the ladies who preen and flutter and sharpen their files of tongues on the bones of every one who passes before turning the buffing side to polish up friends and enemies alike. Not even our fair city's favorite, the masquerade, can captivate me; there the artifice so apparent and stifling in other gatherings of the like is only externalized and treated as a clever trick.
Solitude in the workshop or the library comforts me far more. There I am alone with no one to expect anything from me no witty words of which I have none, no sympathy or empathy of which I cannot express, only the wood and the knife under my hands shaping themselves into gentle and undemanding shapes, beauty existing for beauty's sake and no one else's; silence, acceptance, peace.
Tonight we have been invited. I must
Etzel and the ColossusEtzel von Gerhart scrambled over the rubble of a fallen wall, surveyed the carnage before him, and groaned.
This was the third straight night of fighting. Put a battalion of demons and the warriors they were bound to in front of a guerrilla band of very, very angry warlocks, and things were bound to get ugly bloody quick. But then, apparently, they kept on getting bloody. Lengthily. Etzel ducked as a magical explosion detonated and something fleshy flew over his head.
None of the nastiness and mess really had an impact on his role here, though. Etzel folded his arms and wiped the splatters fastidiously from his face with his favorite handkerchief black, so that the stains didn't show. All he really had to do was find a certain item, get it and bring it back to his employer though killing as many opposing warlocks as possible would be a bonus.
Well, then. Where to find this sunstone. He tucked his kerchief away and dusted his hands off theatrically, then for good measure t
Stahl-Legion: Night TerrorsIt is several months since the first maschine became part of him, and still Lars wakes screaming in the night.
Lotte mocks him often for it; she mimics his ranting and frantic gasps for breath, and the others pretend they don't find it funny most of the time. He doesn't try to tell her what he sees any more, or any of them most of the time. He doesn't try to describe the visions that scald the interior of his skull: the great beasts that are neither angel nor demon, but abominations wondrous and hideous in their inhumanity. Gaping mouths, innumerable eyes, an arm for every feather and a wing for every scale, huge as skies and small as breaths. They do not speak to him, but they tell him what the universe is made of, and when he wakes he doesn't remember a thing except the fear.
These are nothing new. They came before the metal sank its many little fangs into his left arm, his throat, his jaw. None of the little unpleasantries, as Doktor Herzmann calls them, came after the augmen
Stahl-Legion: Secret WingsEver since she can remember, Magda has been sure that everyone has secret wings that no one can see. She can feel hers. Invisible and airy, they make themselves known by the lightness of their absence. They belong there.
The others all have theirs, too. Lars' are of old tin, balsawood and ball-bearings; small, rickety and broken, just like him, with sharp edges that can spring out and slice unwary hands deeply at the slightest provocation. Lotte's are phoenix wings: big, blinding and burning anyone who comes near, sending rolls of thunder up to the heavens every time they strike the ground. Erik's are shining silver and shards of mirrors, dazzling but dangerously smashed up and undependable. Hans' are elegantly biological, like the Italian Da Vinci's wooden gliders but living breathing parchment, and Graham's are heavy, impressive things that hint at the raw power that drive them; commanding dragon's wings. Doktor Herzmann... he keeps his hidden well, but surely they are bon
Hey, I Like You [America] BANG! BANGBANGBANG!
The shots rang out as Alfred cocked his shotgun, aimed, and hit the dummy figures with perfect accuracy. To his right, you stood, waiting your turn.
"Yo, you're almost as a good a shot as I am~" you called out over the ringing of the gunshots.
He flashed a winning smile, "Tch, it was I who taught you anyway. Let's have a face off!"
"I'll beat your ass," you said confidently, hefting your own gun to your shoulder. "Let's get this ON!"
You pressed the buttons to allow an onslaught of new dummies rise against Alfred. He took a breath, let the gun become one with him, an extension of his arm and began shooting. The score counter above pinged softly for every death-shot he made. He had killed all of them. A perfect full combo showed on the counter.
"Phew~ That was fun. You can't beat perfect," Alfred teased. "After all, the hero must have pe
Verdad o Reto Parte 1
Era de noche, los niños estaban en la residencia Fletcher, habia botanas, colchas y peliculas de terror, era una pijamada muy divertida, las niñas se estaban vistiendo mientras que los chicos elejian que hacer en la pijamada
Thomas: ¿con que empezamos?
Erick: con las botanas
Fred y Xavier: nos leiste la mente
Oliver: que glotones
Erick, Fred y Xavier: ¡EY!
Thomas: como sea, yo diria que hagamos retos
Fred: ¡VERDAD O RETO!
Thomas: excelente idea
En eso las chicas salen del baño con sus pijamas, los chicos se quedan boca abierta al ver a las chicas, para ser precisos niguno de ellos la vieron en pijama
Marie: ¿que les pasa? - dijo confundida (yo: ¿por que tuvo que ser flynn?)
Sam: como sea, ¿que elijieron
Los chicos: .......
Alex: enserio me estan preocupando
Jazz: estan en su mundo
Miley: ¿no me digas? - dice con ironia
Dezz: deja de hacer ironias miley
Los chicos: - reaccionando - ¿eh?
BBC!Mycroft x reader (BM challenge)
55. Everyone was dancing, but me.
It's not a fairytale, when a man from across the room offers you his hand for a dance. It doesn't matter how sharply he's dressed or his manners. It doesn't matter how his compliments make you blush and look away, or that he's the perfect gentleman.
Sometimes you only wondered if he'd ever let you dance. To play the part of his companion at these events was in your job description as Mycroft's personal assistant, sure. But would he ever take you to a place you didn't have to follow his predetermined script every single time?
"Would you like to dance? I just realized I have yet to ask you."
Your eyes light up as if Sherlock was given a triple homicide, and you took his hand. It didn't matter the type of dance or the music, for Mycroft all that mattered was that he could now put on a show for a minister of someplace who was in charge of something you would never care to look up.
But for you, all that mattered was that dance. You finally but your arm cand
Life's too short. James Sirius Potter x Reader
“James, I'm drinking Firewhiskey while there's candy in my mouth and it absolutely tastes like shit. I've ran away from home and that didn't really work out in the end. I've encountered near death experiences before. What's life without a little risk?”
James looked at her, unsure of what to actually say. “You're fucking crazy, you know that?”
But she only smiled and said nothing after that. James stared at her - wondering what it was like to kiss her pink lips. He began wondering why she wanted to run away from home. He began to wonder why he actually loved her. He began to wonder if she loved him back, too.
GOD, HE WAS SO IN LOVE WITH HIS BEST FRIEND.
Warning: Mentions of smoking and alcohol.
Code red: I'm in love with my best friend.
I can't believe this. I'm in love with her. I thought that it was just some sort of kiddie crush, but it wasn't. For all I know, my feelings just started to grow even more. And that's not fair. It is
Sherlock x reader : Misunderstanding [One shot]"SHERLOCK, STOP SHOOTING AT THE WALL; WE HAVE A CASE!"
Sherlock dropped his gun and ran towards you, snatching the laptop from you. Then he went backwards, plopping down on the couch. The wall was still steaming slightly from it's gun wounds.
You stood there, your eyebrows raised.
"We didn't have a case only for about a day, and you're this desperate already?" You scoffed.
"You don't understand, ______" Sherlock calmly stated, rolling his blue robe's sleeves up, " You might even say that I get high from cases."
You only rolled your eyes and sat beside him, causing him to flinch. You both looked at the screen that had the case that Sherlock always had wanted.
Hello, Sherlock Holmes.
It looks to me that my boyfriend is losing interest in me. At first, probably because he didn't know me, found me interesting. Then, after deducing me, I think he thinks that I'm boring. I'm not sure if I would want to continue this relationship if he keeps on ignoring me. Now, it's n
Dias sin Ti - Capitulo 1 Parte 1
Me fui directamente a la cocina a poner los platos en la mesa y luego la comida, lo que mas me alegraba era como phineas y marie se sentaban al instante para comer la comida que les cocino.
Nos sentamos moderadamente y empezamos a comer, lo que habia cocinado era spaguetti, de hecho yo fui la comio como bestia, veia como phineas y marie me veian con cara de WTF, a porque era impresionante verme comiendo con la boca sucia de la salsa de tomate
Es el momento, tengo que decirle a phineas esto, ya no lo puedo esconder mas, seria una terrible esposa si le escondiera pero si....¿me deja? ¿se va con otra?, no lo creo, no huyo cuando le dije que marie naceria, que la suerte me acompañe en esta cena.
- Phineas: amor ¿estas bien? - pregunto extrañado
- Isabella: si
Eres para mi? 6
Los chicos se van afuera a buscar anami cuando de repente alguien agarra del hombro a sunny
Sunny: ¡AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! - grito asustada
Danielle: ¿soy muy asustadisa? - dijo la chica castaña un poco deprimida
Sunny: no vuelvas a hacer eso danielle - le dijo ella bochornoza - y no eres muy asustadisa
Danielle: ¿que hacen?
Antony: buscamos a anami - explicando la situacion (yo: ¿que no sintieron todos el grito de sunny?)
Daniella: bueno antes de irse dijo que se hiria con un tal cameron
Todos excepto crhis y danielle: ¡¿QUIEN ES CAMERON?!
Chris: yo lo conozco
Sunny: entonces esta en buenas manos - dijo retirandose pero ian la carga - sueltame tonto
Chris: gracias ian
Ian: cuando quieras
Antony: ¡SUELTALA TONTO!
Dias sin Ti - Capitulo 1 Parte 2
Las horas pasan rapido, como si fuera una niebla decaida que desiende a su destino, no pude dormir toda la noche, primero que nada porque el amor de mi vida esta embarazada y segundo porque estoy completamente confundido y ese es el problema....nose porque
Ese sonido de despertador, el que no queria oir, sono. Me levanto abrumado y doy paso al baño, una vez cerrada me saco la pijama y estoy completamente desnudo, me meto en la ducha y me relajo, cada gota de agua tivia en mi cuerpo, la verdad es que necesitaba algo que me relajara, me espontaneo en ello, la verdad nose que pensar ahora
- Isabella: ¡AMOR! - me dice detras de la puerta
- Phineas: ¿que pasa? - digo espontaneamente relajado
- Isabella: no te desmores,
Una CondicionAdvierto, esto es:
Hace poco Rigby fue a la sala para jugar videojuegos por un rato, aunque algo faltaba...
-Oye ¿No vas jugar sin mí, verdad?- Dijo Mordecai acercándose y sentándose junto al castaño
-Claro que no, pero quería ser el jugador uno- Hizo un puchero, porque sabía que si quería ser el primer jugador tendría que jugar a los golpes, y conociendo al más alto puede golpear bastante fuerte que deja con un brazo adolorido al mapache
-Quizá si puedas serlo- Mencionó el arrendajo
-Un momento, mejor vuelvo a ser el jugador dos, no hace falta que me pegues- retrocedió un poco
-Solo te dejaré ser el jugador uno con una condición-
-¿Cual?- Preguntó ingenuamente Rigby
-Ésta- Lo besó sin más demora, el mapache quedó congelado ante tal acción, pero se recuper
O My MetropolisTear yourself from your boundaries, o my metropolis, and drift with the graceful slowness of continents to my arms. Though the others look not upon you, for you are black with smoke and sharp with the tongues of your children, I rejoice, for mine eyes have their full run of your rough and uncouth fierceness.
Come to my arms, o Manchester, and fit your city limits round my roads, your slums to my city centre. You make me desire the filth of the streets and the grey of bleak great winter skies above bleaker little lives.
Dirty me, my dear.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More